


The Sins of War

by Sapioromantique



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Insanity, Manipulation, Mild Blood, My First Work in This Fandom, Napoleonic Wars, Sexual Content, Strangulation, Violence, War, this isn't meant to be sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapioromantique/pseuds/Sapioromantique
Summary: 1806 - France, having earlier crushed both Russia and Austria at Austerlitz and dissolved the Holy Roman Empire, sets her sights on an old friend...





	The Sins of War

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! :)  
> I remember discovering Hetalia in high school around 2008 and I recently came across it again. But I also realised the fandom is more or less crumbling down, and I've never shared anything, may it be text or ideas/headcanons...  
> I found this old work on a USB flash drive and thought: why not I rework on it...?  
> It's pretty bad, also considering the fact I'm not a native English speaker, but oh, well...! ;) I hope you enjoy it!

** The Sins of War **

_Vienna, 20 August 1806_

 

They hadn’t met in a while, with Prussia having been part of the First Coalition against France between 1792 and 1797, and now with France having her sights set on Prussia. There was a palpable tension in the air. His friend had changed, Gilbert felt. She now sat across from him, looking straight into his eyes with a crooked smile. He felt trapped.

Marianne’s hungry irises pierced through his very soul, setting his body on fire. Feeling the burn run down his spine, he suppressed a shiver. Gilbert tried to appear relaxed by repositioning himself in his seat and  inconspicuously wiping his sweaty palms on the smooth velvet padded armrests. France’s smirk grew even wider as she made Prussia's King fall onto the chessboard. The black King collided with the ivory surface with an echoing thud.

"Checkmate, Gilbert...", she purred.

Gilbert growled. He had had enough of this masquerade.  He would **_never_** concede defeat.

He glared at his partner, hoping to threaten her, but Marianne only chuckled darkly.

" _Du Miststück!_ " he swore between barred teeth.

Gilbert rose to his feet, sending his chair toppling down onto the luxurious wooden floorboards. He seized the table with both hands and, in one of his usual bouts of rage, knocked the table over like a petulant child. Marianne didn’t even flinch. He lost no time in closing the gap between them and wrapped his fingers around her neck. A silent gasp escaped her lips, but her grin had yet to leave her face. He lifted her chin so that their eyes met once more. Ruby red met sapphire blue, and for a moment, no words were spoken.

"Go ahead”, said France, breaking the silence. “Go ahead and kill me, if that makes you feel any better."

Gilbert grunted and tightened his grip on her throat. Marianne looked strangely calm, never breaking eye-contact.

"You know I didn't come here to play chess, _Frankreich_ ", he snarled.

"Indeed", she dully answered.

Gilbert dug his nails into the flesh of her neck. He wished he could rip that insufferable smirk off her face.

"How could you?", he rasped.

For a second, he saw something reflect in her eyes. It looked like guilt, but it was quickly washed away as she turned to glare back at him.

"The boy was already dying. I put him out of his misery, that’s all", she said flatly.

Prussia's left hand balled into a fist, and he sent it crashing into her jaw. France groaned in pain. The blow had already left a reddish mar on the pale skin of her face.

"Do you realise what you've just done? Just to extend your _fucking_ Empire!", Gilbert snarled.

"You hated being under his rule; you would have ended up disposing of him anyway." Prussia cursed before punching her again. His nails scratched her neck as her head flew to the side, and blood pearled at the surface of her skin. France took a long breath and her smirk finally faded.

"I did what I had to do. Even weak and dispatched, he was still a threat to our plans. Now, your little Ludwig will truly be able to become a country of his own. Aren't you glad?"

Prussia seemed to take a second to think.

" ** _No_**. You butchered a little boy, you marched on his lands, you massacred his soldiers and took what wasn't yours France! Just for your ridiculous Italian of an Emperor and his so-called expansion!"

"Come on Gilbert, what’s got into you? We’ve all done this before. We've all tried to expand at different times. I cannot make out why you're so upset, you've done the same to Poland in the past after all."

"I have **_never_ ** killed a country, _Frankreich_."

Marianne sighed.

"Many countries have died, my dear. My mother, Gaul, was ripped apart, the mighty Roman Empire crumbled in on himself… The Holy Roman Empire is just another casualty of history. One day, we might die too, Gilbert. We may regenerate, but we're not eternal."

Gilbert slightly loosened his grip on the woman's throat.

"There is some truth to what you say, but..."

"There is no but. The weakest has died, it's as simple as that", Marianne insisted.

Prussia took a step backwards, giving the French more space. He was boiling with rage. He was so enraged, in fact, that he unexpectedly lunged at her. The impact caused France’s gilded chair to topple down. The two countries wrestled on the floor, rolling onto the expensive Persian carpet. France found herself pinned to the ground with Prussia straddling her hips. She groaned as his fists hammered her jaw. She could taste her own blood as it poured out of her mouth and nose. In one swift movement, she forcefully slammed her knees into Prussia's back. The albino lurched forward with a gasp. His face came close enough for France to take advantage of the situation and elbow him in the face. Stunned by the blow, the Prussian keeled over, blood pooling in his mouth. Marianne, as he remembered, had always been quite the fighter. With a snarl, she sat astride him and smashed the chessboard onto his head. Prussia let a flow of German curses out of his mouth. Grunting, he pushed her off him and onto her fallen chair. France cried out as her back hit the hard surface. Gilbert scrambled over to her, wrapping his hands around her throat, all the while pinning her down with one knee on her stomach. Marianne grabbed his wrists and swung her right leg over his back, throwing him off balance. The Prussian landed flat on his back and moaned in pain. Once more, Marianne was on top of him. Her fingers curled around his neck like roots on the ground, congesting his airway. Prussia gasped for breath, scratching her hands, but France had an iron grip. His head throbbed with each arrhythmic beat of his heart. He tried struggling against her grip, but rapidly sagged, feeling suddenly spent. 

“It’s no use my dear…”, France whispered.

Even through his blurred vision, Gilbert could see the raw expression in her eyes: it was _pure_ madness. Her irises were clouded and dark like the sky before a storm, and a scary grin was plastered on her face.

“Come on, beg for your life”, she ordered with a cruel voice.

Gilbert grimaced, unable to answer.

Like hell he would ever beg for his life! Especially not in front of **_her_**! France withdrew her hands, leaving the poor man wheezing on the ground. She wasted no time in grasping the collar of his Prussian uniform and yanking on it. Sitting up, she brought his face close to hers, noses almost touching. They locked gaze once more. France’s eyes looked like a tormented sea, and Prussia thought he would drown in its ruthless waves.

“I won’t bow to you”, Gilbert finally said, panting. “I will stop you.”

The blonde chuckled and cupped his face. It was almost gentle, he thought.

“You will, like all the others. No special treatment for you.”

With all his might, Prussia head-butted the woman. But, unfortunately,  the impact barely made her lurch. Soon enough, the Frenchwoman straightened up and spat blood onto the carpet.

“ _Bâtard_ …”, she grunted.

Her strength showed how powerful she had grown since 1802. But God, her plans were far too great. She wouldn’t make it. He even doubted he could do it either ( _surprisingly_ ). That Napoleon _Arschloch_ had revived her appetite for war; she craved conquest, she thrived on it. And for the first time, he felt terrified of this friend he didn’t recognise.

“Come on, love. Don’t fret. France will take good care of you…”

With a groan, Gilbert forced his friend onto her back. France grabbed his coat as she fell backwards, sending golden buttons clattering to the floor. The Prussian was now in the dominant position, which he felt more comfortable with. Under him, France kept a hard glare and a haughty expression. She began wriggling in an attempt to throw him off her. She thrusted her hips up, down and sideways, writhing like a snake beneath him. Prussia had a hard time staying focused on the task at hand. He all but let out a shaky breath when their crotches met. France’s eyes widened before a knowing smile replaced the surprise on her face. She grabbed him by the collar and brought his face close to hers.

“Well, well, it would seem our mighty Prussia isn’t an example of self-control.”

Gilbert spat blood in her face, little droplets scattering like stars on her skin. He admired his work for a second before licking the substance away. It was very gentle, and France knew she could win him over. His tongue trailed over her cold and parted lips. Their breaths mingled, their eyes locked. Prussia covered her mouth with his, taking her into a heated kiss. It was needy, hasty. France bit onto his lip and tasted the warm blood of her lover. The Prussian groaned into the kiss, sending shivers down her spine.

He knew she was dangerous and lecherous, but he couldn’t help himself. She was offered to him, right there and then. And he thought France had always even more stunning with blood on her face. It reminded him of battles where they fought side by side and celebrated around a drink, with loosened uniforms and dried blood caking their faces.

His cold finger fumbled with her shirt. Damn, he thought, why are there always so many buttons? He cursed and ripped the fabric open. He came face to face with bandages, but no corset. A wise choice, as corsets were highly impractical to fight in. His nails, stained with blood, ripped through the material. He saw the injuries France tried to hide. She had already been through a lot… She took one of his hands and placed it on the most recent scar. It crossed her chest, from her left collarbone to her right breast.

“Austerlitz…” she murmured.

Gilbert bent down and traced the scar with his lips. Marianne gasped, letting her hands run through his short silver hair. She had to admit, she had missed this, whatever _this_ was. Since 1789, all she had known was war, death, and loneliness… She had almost forgotten how it felt to be cared about. France gently took Gilbert’s head between her hands and brought him back to her level in order to kiss him passionately. The Germanic country discarded both her coat and shirt, leaving her half-naked. He then took his own jacket off, but when he tried to unbutton his shirt, France pushed his hands away. Her fingers worked fast, soon leaving him shirtless. Her cold palms caressed his toned chest, feeling the muscles under the pale skin of the albino. Prussia lowered his head and began sucking on her neck. The French moaned, tilting her head back to give him more space. She let her nails scrape his back. Gilbert shuddered. His hands reached the hem of her military trousers.

He gripped the fabric and trailed down her body with his tongue. He bit at the skin of her flanks, sinking his teeth into her soft flesh. France’s back arched as he did so, releasing the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He slowly unbuttoned her trousers and slipped her leather boots off. Gilbert’s fingers grasped the white linen of her trousers and slid them off her legs. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed a kiss onto the side of her ankle. Her eyes, now clouded by lust, hungrily watched him as he kissed his way up to her calf. Prussia’s lips grazed the thin skin of her knee before travelling her thigh up. When he reached the top, he slowed down before biting into the flesh of her hip. It was pure torture for the French, who repeated his name in a murmur, like a litany. He loved how it rolled on her foreign tongue, soft and romantic. Prussia licked his lips and pulled France into a kiss. His cold fingers ghosted over her heated core. The blonde yelped into his mouth, pressing her chest against his. Prussia smirked, letting his digits brush over her entrance.

“Don’t you dare tease me now, _Teuton_!” she hissed in his ear.

“Oh, it’s been a while since you last called me that.”

“ _Tais-toi_.”

France bit the lobe of his ear, earning a moan from him. He slipped a finger inside the French and scraped her insides. France growled in pain and kicked her legs, hitting his lower back. She punched him in the face. Blood sprinkled out of his nose and little droplets scattered over her knuckles.

“Never pleased, _Madame_ …”

“ _Leck mich_ , Gil”, she gnarled dangerously.

Prussia plunged his digit deeper into her core. France’s back arched as a moan escaped her lips. The pleasure traversed her body in small waves. The albino smirked, and, still working on her heat, bit into her breast. A small gasp passed through her parted lips. She wrapped her arms around his back, holding onto him as though she would drown. Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his shoulders. Soon, overwhelmed by pleasure, France lolled her head and released a delicate sigh. She licked her chapped and blood-stained lips in a satisfied fashion. She had resisted him a bit before giving in, he thought. On a normal occasion, she wouldn’t have put that much of a fight, and that frustrated him. She had grown so cold and distant in such a short amount of time… Gilbert sucked on his finger and sighed.

“I hate to say this, but you are clay in your Emperor’s hands, Marianne. He’s leading you towards your death”, he said, his voice husky.

“Oh, don’t give me that, as if you cared! The entire European continent is against me!”, she spat.

Prussia looked hurt. He sighed and propped himself up.

“You will never understand will you?”, he began, eyes fixed the ground.

France furrowed her brows, a bit lost.

“My attachment for you”, he softly said.

Under him, Marianne was silent for a moment. This was very bizarre, Gilbert was scarcely serious and he never expressed his feelings.

“You’ve grown soft”, she murmured before grasping his belt. “Now, get done with it.”

The albino was left bewildered. France took advantage of it: she unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down to his knees. But Prussia remained frozen in place.

_What had they done to his friend…?_

Marianne sighed and forcefully grabbed his chin.

“Stop playing that little game of yours, Gilbert. We are at war and I know you don’t mean what you say! Now finish what you’ve obviously come for.”

Prussia’s eyes widened. He realised something: this wasn’t France he had in front of him.

No, it was the French Empire with its nightmarish remnants of a terrible Revolution. The thought made him shiver. He could almost hear the roars of the Revolutionary crowds and the whooshing, metallic sound of the guillotine. She carried the burden of her history with her, and it crushed him. He felt the weight of the dead bodies, the starving people, and the angry mobs. He sensed the swelling strength sprouting inside her. She represented absolute power, glowing achievement. Her hair, messily spread around her head looked like a golden crown. Her deep blue eyes shone like sapphires. Her delicate features seemed sculpted into white and expensive marble. France was so powerful that he felt as though he were about to make love to a deity. A warm feeling flowed inside him and fuelled his desire. Gilbert gently clasped his fingers around her wrists, putting her hands away from him. He then pinned them above her head and locked eyes with her.

“ _Du bist wirklich verloren, meine Freundin_...”, he whispered in her ear as he entered her.

The French moaned. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her thin neck tensed as she bit her lip in pure pleasure. If Gilbert could rejoice in something, it was the feeling of being one when everything around them was falling apart. Their bodies, tangled in a suave fashion, moved in rhythm. The Prussian let his fingers trace the outlines of her silhouette. France rocked her hips to meet her partner’s in such a natural way, it seemed as though their bodies were created to fuse into one another.

Sweat pearled on Gilbert’s forehead as he increased his pace. Some golden strands of hair were plastered on France’s face. Her rosy lips, bruised by their previous fight, were slightly parted open. The blood had dried on their faces, bruises now marred their skins, and yet, for a moment, they seemed to forget what had transpired between them. Nothing else mattered.

Prussia grunted under the effort. He was rewarded for each one of his thrust by France’s exquisite moans. Their sweet symphony reached his ears. Even in this moment of vulnerability she stood proud and strong. Unwavering. Gilbert hid his face in the crook of her neck. His hot breath tickled France’s ear. They shared more than a moment together; they drowned into silent memories and remembrance of ancient touch. War was just a distant cloud on their horizon. Their bodies rolled on the floor, leaving France on top one more time. She dangerously slithered against Prussia in a bewitching manner, never shifting her gaze from his. The albino brought his hands to her hips in order to follow her rhythm.

“You demon…”, he panted.

His lover evilly grinned, showing her sharp, white teeth. She licked her chapped lips like a hungry predator. France wrapped both her hands around his throat for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Prussia was yet again dominated by his friend, and he didn’t know whether the idea appealed to him or not. Under other circumstances, he certainly would have enjoyed it. But not now. Right now, he needed to feel strong and dominating.

“Now, be a good boy, and come for me”, she growled, increasing her pace.

Gilbert hoarsely moaned. His face was becoming redder under the iron grip of the French. He felt himself stepping closer and closer to the edge. Why was he so weak when it came to that succubus? France should be weaker than him, right..? 

“ _Gott, Fr-Frankreich_ ”, he rasped, trying to clasp his fingers around her wrists.

Marianne felt Gilbert flail under her. His nails dug into her flesh, but she barely noticed, as she was too focused on the task at hand. A few more minutes and she would win. France knew her lover was ripe for the plucking.

Prussia writhed, trying to escape both her grip and his release. Unfortunately, his attempts were useless. Tired by the effort, he finally let go. His back arched and a strangled cry echoed against the mansion’s walls.

Marianne’s hands left his neck and he coughed with each gulp of air burning his lungs. France shuddered from head to toes. She nonchalantly let her head loll back before releasing a soft and quiet moan of satisfaction.

Prussia massaged his throat. On top of him, France had yet to move. His red orbs were focused on her. He was straining because of his blurred vision, but what he saw was not a trick of his mind: France started chuckling. Her shoulders soon shook and a fiendish laugh escaped from her exposed throat.

“You have been obedient, Gilbert.”

She propped herself up, pulling their bodies apart. Prussia moaned but did not move. He stayed on the floor, too busy catching his breath.

France, in the meantime, had risen to her feet, entirely naked in front of him. She gathered her clothes, putting them on as she went. When she turned back towards him, her eyes did not bear any emotions except for cruelty.

“I hope you will be as obedient when we meet on the battlefield”, she sneered.

“Wait, that’s not what I came for…!”, he stuttered.

“Farewell, _Preußen_.”

And with that, she swiftly disappeared into the cold night to an unknown destination, leaving a naked and bruised Prussia sprawled on the cold floor.

“ _Verdammt!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> **TRANSLATIONS**
> 
>  
> 
> **GERMAN**  
>  _Du Miststück!_ = You bitch/bastard!  
>  _Frankreich_ = France  
>  _Arschloch_ = Arsehole  
>  _Leck mich_ = Kiss my arse/Up yours (lit. “Lick me”)  
>  _Du bist wirklich verloren, meine Freundin_ = You are truly lost, my friend (fem.)  
>  _Gott_ = God  
>  _Preußen_ = Prussia  
>  _Verdammt_ = Damn it
> 
> **FRENCH**  
>  _Bâtard_ = Bastard  
>  _Teuton_ = a member of the Teutonic Knights (also a derogatory term meaning “German”)  
>  _Tais-toi_ = Shut up/Shut it 
> 
>  
> 
> **\---**
> 
>  
> 
> **HISTORY TIME!**
> 
> **Austerlitz - 2 December 1805, the Battle of the Three Emperors.**  
>  France vs. Russia & Austria.  
> The battle lasted for around 10 hours and was a major victory for France.  
> The Prussian government was apparently pushing for war against France and considered joining Austria, but due to slow Prussian politics, war wasn’t declared in time and Austria found itself alone to face France. The Austrian defeat at Austerlitz sped the HRE dissolution process. 
> 
> I like to see the Holy Roman Empire as France’s little half-brother, since he was born after Frankish king Charlemagne was crowned Emperor of the Frankish Empire (or Francia) in 800. The two kingdoms inherently grew apart, becoming respectively the Kingdom of the Franks and the Kingdom of Germany (because it was the biggest kingdom of the entire territory), later renamed “Holy Roman Empire”. But, as a troublesome little brother having trouble unifying his increasingly powerful kingdoms, well, he needed to go.  
> On **6 August 1806, Napoleon forced Emperor Francis II to abdicate, dissolving the HRE** and replacing it with the Confederation of the Rhine, a French satellite that would later become the German Confederation (after 1815, the end of the Napoleonic wars). 
> 
> **July 1806 marks the start of what is called the Prussian Campaign (or the War of the Fourth Coalition).**  
>  So, around the time of this story, France and Prussia were sort of at war, but no major battle had taken place yet. Tensions were just really starting to escalate and Prussia was asking Russia and Britain for an alliance (only Russia accepted, though).  
> Once the fighting started, on **8 October 1806** , it would take France only 4 weeks to bring Prussia to its knees…  
> The worst battle was that of **Jena, fought on 14 October 1806**. Once again, the battle lasted for about 10 hours and ended with an utter and complete French victory. Prussia would sign a peace treaty some 9 months later.


End file.
